Prophecy
by Lord Gargoyle
Summary: Clark and Chloe stumble across the latest LuthorCorp project, which has dangerous repercussions. Set in S4.
1. Chapter 1

**Prophecy**

**Summary:** Clark and Chloe stumble across the latest LuthorCorp project, which has dangerous repercussions.  
**Rating:** PG-13 or T for language in later chapters and violence  
**Pairing: **No official pairing, slight Chloe/Clark.  
**Spoilers: **Mild spoilers for "Scare".  
**Author's Note:** I wrote this as a freshman in high school, and now that I'm about to become a freshman in college, I thought I'd revisit it and see if I could figure out where the fuck I was going with this.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Lex removed his goggles from his eyes. So far, the latest LuthorCorp-funded project had been going spectacularly. No hassle, no kinks, and every test subject had come up alive without any potentially harmful symptoms.

"Mr. Luthor," came the matter-of-fact voice of Dr. Sinclair, "does the project meet with your satisfactions? Mind you, it's not entirely done. So far the individuals can only – "

"That is not the most important part," Lex interrupted, oddly impatient. "The gas is well contained, right? I don't want it outside this facility…I don't want the general public to get another scare," he added dryly.

Dr. Sinclair cracked a weak smile. He had been against this project; after his last project that experimented on meteor rocks, he was not anxious to go back to work on the strange mineral. However, Lex Luthor was his boss, and he was getting paid handsomely for this task. The doctor sighed as the young Luthor continued.

"The costs of covering up another episode like our previous experiment would be phenomenal – the money paid to the government and the authorities _plus _the cost of materials, which would have been completely wasted."

Dr. Sinclair paused. He didn't really know how to respond, so instead…

"Would you like to see again, Lex?"

Lex smiled and snapped on his goggles. "Would I."

* * *

Chloe liked it when the school was empty. Whether it was early in the morning or well into the night, she liked it better when there was no noise and no one around her, save for a janitor or two. When she walked into the hallways the only things she could hear were her thoughts and her shoes on the floor.

However, the school was not empty. It was the middle of the day – lunch, in fact – and Chloe was struggling to finish a deadline. A writer for the Torch, Katherine Ortiz, (a very talented writer but also a very talented ditz) had yet again failed to complete an article – this time, about the Junior drama club's upcoming play.

Chloe put her head in her hands as the cheers for a streaker grew louder. Any other day she would've joined the crowd against the wall and cheer with them, but she didn't have time to. There were several other half-finished articles that Katherine had started that needed to be placed in the newspaper.

Feeling extremely wise and mature and _better_ than the rest of her senior class, Chloe wailed, "Would it kill them to be a bit more _mature_!"

"Oh, probably."

Chloe looked up and grinned. "Hey, Clark. What's that you got there? Coffee? For me? You shouldn't have!" She launched up out of her seat to grab the steaming cup out of Clark's hand.

"Well, actually…" he started, but Chloe cut him off.

"Can you believe that Katherine Ortiz?" she snapped. "I mean, who does she think she is? Sure, maybe she thinks she's an incredibly talented writer, and she would be right!"

"Chloe…" Clark said mildly, knowing that it was best to head Chloe off before she _really_ started raving.

She didn't take the hint. "But she made a commitment! She can't just walk out on this; she said that she would be here _at least_ three days a week! Every week! But she hasn't been here _once_ this week, except to turn in her article – which she didn't even _finish_!"

"Chloe, is something wrong?" Clark asked, even though he had a feeling that he already knew the answer. The past two weeks had been difficult for Chloe with the ominous thought that she could inherit the same mental illness that her mother had. He had tried to comfort her, but really, there wasn't much he could say or do.

She paused in the middle of the sentence and bit her lip. "Well…stress…I guess…"

Clark walked over to Chloe and put his arms around her in a tight hug. "Don't worry, Chlo, I'm always gonna be here for you, no matter what." Chloe squeezed his shoulders, and backed away. Somehow, Clark always knew what was wrong with her, even when she lied. Well, maybe it was a poor lie, but that wasn't important right now.

Chloe rubbed the bridge of her nose, and put the coffee down next to her computer. "I'm sorry, Clark."

"Don't be," he responded immediately. Chloe smiled. "Anyway, I did come here to tell you something, Chlo."

Chloe looked intrigued. He continued. "LutherCorp has stared experimenting again with meteor rocks. Lex is funding it but I don't think that it's another government requested experiment."

"Well that's good. You know how well the _last _government requested experiment went." Clark smiled sadly. "Anyway, how'd you find this out? I know you aren't exactly a super-sleuth, so spill."

Clark rolled his eyes. "I was over at Lex's yesterday and I saw a progress report on his computer while he got a drink. I didn't get a chance to see much of it, but enough to know that it could cause serious damage if whatever they were creating got loose." Actually, that was only half the truth. Clark _had_ gone to Lex's mansion, but before he entered the room he used his super-hearing to listen to a conversation between Lex and Dr. Sinclair. They were discussing the potentiality of the gas corroding the containers it was in.

Now Chloe was most definitely intrigued. "Clark, that sounds like an actual good story. But I really gotta finish these articles so that the Torch can have an edition tomorrow."

Noticing how anxious Chloe was, Clark put up a suggestion. "Why don't you go to Katherine's house? I heard she was cutting today."

Chloe grinned. "And how, I wonder, did the star quarterback manage to find out this juicy information about a very prominent cheerleader?"

Clark blushed a little, but continued. "I heard it around the locker room. She said – well I mean, I _heard_ that she said that she just wanted to hang around her house. Uh, she also said – I mean I _heard _that she said that her ex-boyfriend was going to be there, so, um, you can run on that."

Chloe bit her lip to control her barely-concealed laughter. The fact that _Clark_ was telling _her_ a bit of gossip that she didn't already know combined with his awkward delivery was a little too much for Chloe to handle.

Clark noticed the odd expression on Chloe's face, and instead of giving her the opportunity to laugh, he spluttered out, "Hey, why don't you go to Katherine's house to bug her about the articles? She's nice, I'm sure if you told her she'd get right back to work on them! And, and, after practice I could go back over to Lex's and ask about the project!"

"Good idea, Clark," Chloe said, swallowing her laughter and getting a bit more serious. "I could use a break from this room. Double bonus if it's a productive break." She threw her books in her bag and made for the door.

"Thanks, Clark," Chloe said. "You're always there when I need it, from the small things to the big things." Clark simply smiled back at her. As she started to leave the room, the laughter that had threatened to come up earlier suddenly was released and Chloe started to laugh hysterically.

And if she had seen the look on Clark's face as she walked down the emptying halls, she probably would've laughed herself to death.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Chloe was at the Ortiz residence. As she walked on the path next to the absolutely perfectly manicured lawn, she mused at the sheer perfection of this estate. The house was painted a pastel pink with crisp white trim, and the white flowerboxes in the windows had, of course, pastel pink and white petunias. The roof was grey and the doorknob was gold. However, as Chloe went to ring the doorbell, she noticed something very odd about the doorknob. It looked like a dirt stain.

"A dirt stain on _this_ house?" Chloe muttered. On any other house this wouldn't have sparked such alarm, but a dirt stain was far from perfection, which was what this house embodied. She looked closer, and realized that it was blood. She inhaled sharply, and noticed the slight adrenaline rush in her body. Chloe reached for the doorbell, pulled away, reached back, but instead, pushed on the door. It was unlocked.

Chloe gasped as she saw the inside of the house. It was perfect, yes, just like the exterior of the house…except for the splashes of blood everywhere – on the wall, on the carpet, on the lamp.

At the far end of the house, Chloe caught sight of Mrs. Ortiz. She had her back to Chloe and was kneeling. Chloe rushed over. "Mrs. Ortiz! Are you all right? What happened?" The millions of other questions that Chloe had to ask were at the tip of her tongue, but good sense told her that this wasn't the time at all.

Mrs. Ortiz turned around sadly. Chloe gasped. Her face was covered in blood – but that wasn't what shocked Chloe. It was the dead body of Katherine Ortiz – her head twisted at an unnatural angle and blood pouring out of her stomach and mouth.

Chloe was speechless. Mrs. Ortiz started to sob. "I knew this would happen! I knew it! I knew it!"

Chloe felt nauseous and awkward. "Mrs. Ortiz, should I – should I call the police? Yeah, I think I'm going to –"

Mrs. Ortiz suddenly grabbed Chloe's ankle and looked up at the teenager with wild eyes. "No! You don't understand!" She started to sob again. "I saw this happen! I saw this happen before it happened! I saw myself with my daughter's dead body! _I saw this happen_!"

Chloe's eyes went wide as she processed this information. As the woman sobbed and clutched Chloe's ankle, her nausea returned. Had Mrs. Ortiz really seen the future?

_Oh man,_ Chloe thought._ Why hadn't I just stayed in the Torch like a good girl?_

* * *

Written: 04-16-05  
Revisited: 06-19-08


	2. Chapter 2

**Prophecy**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Lana adjusted the bag of groceries in her hands as she pushed open the front door of the Talon. It was mid-Tuesday, the slowest time of the week, and the Talon was bursting to the seams with people. Lana sighed. Now she had to fight her way through all these people to her apartment. It was lucky that Smallville was so, well, _small_, however. Lana didn't have a car and had to walk from the grocery store and back.

"Excuse me, pardon me," Lana said, sliding and pushing past people that were crowding the door. "Excuse – oof!"

Lana collided with a man in a blue striped shirt. The groceries tumbled out of the bag and onto the floor. She groaned and kneeled down to start picking up the food.

The man bent down to help Lana retrieve her belongings. "I'm incredibly sorry about that!" the man said cheerfully, his extremely white teeth filling up most of his face.

Lana gave him an odd look. "Oh, that's no problem…" she responded, surprised by the man's excellent dental work but pleased he was helping her collect her groceries.

The man smiled cheerfully. "I knew you'd be just like this! You're Lana Lang, right? Works in the coffee shop, parents killed by the meteor shower, business partners with Lex Luthor?"

Lana's discomfort heightened. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet!" The man replied. Lana stared. He continued. "I'm Michael Ferguson. I used to work at the LuthorCorp plant in Metropolis; I've been in Smallville for a few weeks but I never stopped by here before. I'm impressed; the décor is amazing!"

Lana realized that her mouth was hanging open, and she quickly closed it. "Uh, well, pleased to meet you. I'm Lana Lang, as you _apparently_ already seem to know." She hoped that her last statement would nudge Michael into telling her how he had known her name, but the hit went completely over his head.

"Yes, apparently!" _Did this man ever stop smiling?_ Lana wondered as the man continued to put her groceries back into the paper bag with a huge smile on his face. Lana tried to reciprocate Michael's happiness, but the general weirdness of the situation was deterring her.

With the food safely inside the paper bag, the two stood up. Michael held up the last apple, still smiling. He put it delicately on top of the rest of the contents of the bag, and said cheerfully, "Nice to finally meet you, Lana!"

Lana forced a smile onto her face. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Ferguson."

Michael smiled a little bit more, if that were possible. "Please, Lana, call me Michael."

"Michael, then."

Michael beamed. "Well, I will see you around, Lana! I know we have a lot coming for us!" And with that he sauntered out of the front door, leaving an uncomfortable and confused Lana by the stairs with her bag of groceries.

* * *

The howl of sirens filled the air outside of the Ortiz house. Maybe thirty different people filled the manicured lawns, and multiple cars and ambulances were pulled up around the house. Chloe stood off to the side, her eyes wide in shock. After Mrs. Ortiz had finally let go of Chloe's ankle, she had raced to the phone and hurriedly dialed the police.

They were there a few minutes later, the crime scene investigators with their yellow tape, and doctors who pulled the hysterical Mrs. Ortiz away from the mangled body of her daughter. Chloe couldn't move; she watched the display of the older woman shrieking and sobbing with a dazed horror.

"_¡Es mi niña! ¡Es mi hija! ¡No puedes tomarle de mi! ¡Mi hija!_" Mrs. Ortiz collapsed, sobbing, into the paramedic's arms. They brought the body out, covered in a white sheet, to the ambulance, and closed the doors. The paramedic led Mrs. Ortiz away, but Chloe didn't see where to, because just then…

"Well, Ms. Sullivan," drawled Sheriff Adams, "this can't be your first time at a crime scene, can it?"

Chloe snapped herself out of her trance. "Sheriff Adams," she said, sounding slightly surprised.

"I'm glad we established that, Ms. Sullivan. Now, if you don't mind," the sheriff pulled out a small notepad and a purple pencil with something written on it. Chloe tilted her head to the left and squinted. It said "Nancy" in silver writing.

_Nancy Adams? _Chloe thought, bemused. _I didn't know her name was Nancy._

"…Ms. Sullivan, are you all right? We can continue this questioning later if you're feeling unwell," Sheriff Adams asked, looking unusually concerned.

Chloe shook her head. "No. No. I'm fine. What were you saying?"

"Tell me exactly what happened after…"

Chloe felt her mind wander again. What had Mrs. Ortiz been talking about? She saw this happen…before it actually did? That didn't make sense, though. Obviously she'd need to talk to Katherine's mom again, but right now she was in no state to answer any kind of question.

Sheriff ("_Nancy_," Chloe thought) Adams was still talking, but Chloe couldn't hear any words. She felt herself answering them numbly, robotically. After a few minutes the Sheriff thanked her and went away. Chloe sat down on the grass and put her head in her hands, biting her tongue so as not to cry out. It wasn't fair that this had happened to Katherine! Sure, she was sometimes amazingly brain-dead and slightly annoying and a major slut, but she was always a sweet girl.

Suddenly a huge pain ripped through Chloe's head. It felt like someone had put a knife in the middle of her head – and then the images came.

She was standing in the middle of a slightly blurry room with bare white walls and a single window. The door was locked. Chloe turned around and saw Lana – unconscious and hog-tied in the corner. Chloe turned around, and saw a man with a butcher knife. His face could've been in a nice smile, but it was twisted into an ugly grimace. His mouth moved, but Chloe couldn't hear the words that he was saying. She felt her own mouth moving, but no words. Without warning, the man's butcher knife came swooping down and there was a huge pain in Chloe's chest. The image swirled out of control and she felt herself falling, falling, down to the grass and dirt of the lawn.

Chloe was shaking, and a foul smell reached her nostrils. Judging by the hands on her back and arms and the voices of the paramedics, Chloe guessed that she had just thrown up. She scowled; this was definitely _not_ her day.

* * *

Written: 04-19-05  
Revisited: 06-19-08; exactly three years and two months.


End file.
